


Ruined

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Incest, Light BDSM, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Spanking, Sylvain is whatever age you want him to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24446215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “It began with a few brushes of knees against knees under the dining table. Sudden coughs unnecessarily covering the presence of wandering fingertips toying at the inner seams of his pants—circling the head of his cock.”
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Miklan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 70
Collections: Anonymous





	Ruined

Despite the apparent favoritism toward the younger of the Gautier siblings, Miklan was a man of many ambitions.

Cunning, caustic, and willing to work in vulgar conditions, he earned an underground following alongside a suspension to his dismissal from the family. Unlikely to inherit, he endured his burden as a warrior without a crest yet still blessed with the build of their bloodline, using his resentment to fuel brutality. 

Victory in this way guaranteed him first pick of the plunder—a privilege that became an expectation everywhere he lowered his gaze. He was forthright with just about everything he set his mind to, but there was a secret trumping the rest of his objectives that he kept only between himself and his brother. It was one of Miklan’s hidden desires to crush the mask that hid Sylvain’s true face. 

Miklan has seen Sylvain make many false faces. He’s heard him lie during confession in the morning, then lie again later underneath the petticoats of a maiden at night. He’s watched Sylvain bend his body to accommodate the weight of weapons—be them hands, spears, or the corrosion of harsh truths. He’s thrown his own fists against the walls, searching for a weakness.

How to bridge the divide should have been obvious. Miklan doesn’t remember exactly when he realized there were certain punishments Sylvain would turn toward with a craving to receive. A slap on the wrist was much less preferred to a slap across the face, which, in turn, paled in comparison to anything Miklan decided to do to him below the waist. During sex, Sylvain was so eager to come undone. He’s so easy to ruin. If Miklan had known it was this simple he would have taken him long ago. 

It began with a few brushes of knees against knees under the dining table. Sudden coughs unnecessarily covering the presence of wandering fingertips toying at the inner seams of his pants—circling the head of his cock. Miklan expected it to take more than that; perhaps Sylvain was just waiting for any invitation to throw himself at Miklan, just as Miklan was waiting for any excuse to throw him in the center of his bed and devour him. 

Now he finally has his predatory jaws around Sylvain. Miklan swirls his tongue, pressing deep into the slit. The saliva swelling around the corners of his lips drips out with each bob of his head. His eyes are demons incarnate, the ruby sheen of pomegranate seeds fusing frost of the wasteland. His nails drag along the inside of Sylvain’s thighs, keeping them open against their instinctive pursuit of rest and realization. 

“M-Mik...” Sylvain groans, head thrown back, sinking into the pillow. He tugs at the scarlet locks, trying to get him to slow down. “Too much..”

Miklan persists, taking him to the base. He hums there, then pulls back once Sylvain’s mouth is too busy trying to find a shape to settle on. “Shut up.” He spits on the head, squeezing, smirking at the responding jerk, the expanding stomach following the ripple of ribs as Sylvain gasps for mercy—half-hearted. “You’re enjoying this more than I am.” He pinches Sylvain’s nipple, wearing the shining mask of cruelty, and digs his teeth into the sweet, supple flesh just above his hip bone. 

Sylvain yelps—eyes unfocused, yet searing—and scrambles to bury his fingers deep into Miklan’s hair again. When Miklan pulls back to lick blood and spit off his lips, Sylvain seems to break in the effort to find himself. 

“Miklan...” Even his whispers are as pained as a battle cry. “Gonna—gonna come soon.”

“Of course you are.” Miklan growls out, dragging his tongue across the beading red drops—an offering to his altar from the sacrificial lamb.“Slut.”

Sylvain hisses, dick twitching in Miklan’s grasp. The older Gautier laughs, unbuckling his pants to give a few pumps to his own. Sylvain’s pre-come, mixed with spit, coats his fingers and soon enough, he’s lined up with his little brother’s hole, teasing the puckered flesh. 

“I should fuck you just like this.” Miklan’s voice is low, curt, and dangerous. Sylvain shivers and shifts downward, body seeking contact even before the consent of his mind. He’s dripping so much, Miklan has to catch it to keep it from going to waste. Miklan smears it across his fingers first, then drags his hand across Sylvain’s face, cupping over his mouth to catch his cries as well when he pushes in. “Breed you like a common whore.”

Sylvain whines, sending vibrations into Miklan’s wrist. He only presses harder, gripping Sylvain’s hip to pull him farther down onto his cock.

“You like it when I call you names?” He grunts as Sylvain flicks his tongue out to clean the juices. “Good.” 

Sylvain’s so tight like this; he’s never taken a soul, nothing more than an exploratory finger, Miklan can tell. He’s inconsolable, crying for _harder_ and _faster_ and _more,_ even though both of them know he can’t take it yet. He sticks his tongue out further, trying to push beyond the confinement, so Miklan forces two fingers far back into his mouth, gagging him instead. Sylvain’s body tenses, almost popping him out with the pressure. 

Miklan punishes Sylvain by bottoming out suddenly, setting a swift, but shallow pace once he pulls back. “Can’t believe no one’s fucked you here. Ass like this?” He slaps it, fucking him a little harder and deeper. “Gonna be your first and your last. No one’s allowed to touch you inside, got it? This hole’s only for me.” 

Sylvain nods, blotchy tears staining his rosy cheeks. He’s fucking beautiful like this—so flushed, so desperate to be destroyed, Miklan doesn’t even know if he’ll bother putting him back together again. The crook of his fingers catch on his baby brother’s bottom lip, pulling his jaw down, releasing all the needy moans and pathetic whimpers previously smothered. It just makes Miklan want to rip him apart faster. 

_“Please,”_ Sylvain pleads, raising his hips. His dick throbs in the space between their torsos, seeking relief from the unpleasant feeling of air drying the fluids on his foreskin. Miklan continues to fuck him, unbothered, holding him down like it takes no effort at all—truthfully, it doesn’t.

“Always begging for more.” He flips Sylvain over, pulling out and pushing him hard by his back into the mattress. “Be grateful for what you get, whore.” Sylvain doesn’t struggle, but he does seem torn as to whether or not he’s going to hump the gathering of sheets below him or stick his ass up as far as he can handle to tempt Miklan. 

He slinks a hand underneath, searching for his cock, sobbing when Miklan moves him over his lap and begins to spank him. Miklan’s huge hand easily covers an entire cheek, and Sylvain loves it so much that he forgets to breathe, shuddering through shallow gasps that turn into sniveling hiccups. Miklan alternates sides, dragging his nails over the cooling pink marks, occasionally brushing across an extra sensitive nerve that leaves Sylvain dripping and anxious to anticipate what will follow. 

A cold finger, coated in oil, slips past the first ring of muscle, searching him languidly. The meat of Sylvain’s ass wobbles just as unsteadily as his lips, mashing between wide and wanting, to pursed in a failed attempt to prevent himself from babbling Miklan’s name. 

“ _Please—please_ put it in again…” Sylvain grits his teeth as Miklan adds another finger, toying with him, pumping in and out at a pace that drives him insane. He finds his cock— _finally_ —and starts to jerk himself off successfully for a few seconds before his hand is snatched away and pulled to the small of his back. Sylvain falls forward, burying his surprise when his face meets the bed. 

“Don’t you dare come before me.” Miklan threatens, more with the pull of Sylvain’s body into his gravity and the scissoring of his fingers buried in Sylvain’s heat, than with his tone. “I’ll take you when I’m good and ready.”

Sylvain whines, feeling Miklan brush up against that bundle of nerves he’d only recently discovered by accident. Miklan’s fingers curl to stroke it and the squeeze of Sylvain’s walls around him tells him it’s _too much_ , but he doesn’t care, Sylvain will have to get used to it now because this is _nothing_ compared to what he really wants to do to him. 

“You need my cock, don’t you?” He pumps faster, curls further, snakes his free hand over the quivering mess of his baby brother’s body. Another slap—the hardest one yet—leaves Sylvain screaming. Miklan is genuinely impressed that he hasn’t spilled over multiple times by now. Sylvain always could take whatever was dished out to him without complaint, but when it came to his own pleasure he was impatient and greedy.

“Beg for it, whore. Tell me how badly you need your brother’s cock in you.” He splays his hand over the lower curve of Sylvain’s abdomen, feeling how hot it is already and imagining what it will look like bulging with his cum. Sylvain’s head is down, crooked toward the side to burn him with a wild, irascible defiance that Miklan has never seen before. He looked like he’d cross entire rivers to fight tooth and nail just to be done with it.

“Fuck me. I don’t care how, just fuck me, take me, do _anything._ I’m your whore—right? So just fucking do it, don’t make me wait anymore.” 

Miklan slaps him across the face, immediately grabbing his jaw to squish his cheeks. “You suck at begging.” Instantaneously, Sylvain transforms into something else—some vacant, sacred sanctuary that Miklan intends to desecrate, again and again. He slaps Sylvain once more, for good measure, then hikes his ass up, spreading him open to spit on his hole—watching it drip down while he oils himself up. 

“What do we say?” He asks, pressing the head just slightly into Sylvain’s entrance, blowing on the angry red marks he left above it.

“ _Thank you.”_ Sylvain’s glossy eyes shine with hope and complete subservience. Miklan rewards him with another inch, stopping at Sylvain’s squeak, waiting for the moment where Sylvain gets frustrated enough to look up at him like a wounded animal returning to the source of his misery—chasing the same trap that maimed him. “ _Thank you!”_ It comes more enthusiastically now, accompanied by the swish of sheets as Miklan moves. Sylvain is forced to grasp at them for dear life when he slides all the way inside just to pull back and proceed with a brutal pounding. 

“ _F-fuck!”_ Sylvain pants, scrambling to move away from the headboard Miklan is pushing their bodies toward. He gives up when Miklan changes his position, spearing into him directly from above. He’s so deep, Sylvain can feel it poking at the front of his stomach. He presses down against it and sobs as he bumps around trying not to give into the orgasm that tips closer with each slap of Miklan’s balls against his. 

Miklan groans, wrapping his arms around Sylvain to keep him from flopping away. Once he’s securely hooked, he moves on to slap and pinch at Sylvain’s tits, making the nipples pink and hard under his fingers. Sylvain is such a glutton for tit torture, and Miklan can never get enough, but if he keeps toying with him Sylvain will come too soon and he’ll be close behind. Nothing makes him come harder or faster than seeing his little brother crying from all the pain and pleasure he’s caused him. 

He checks Sylvain’s cock, running a finger over the angry vein. Good. They’re both close, then. Miklan bows his forehead into the back of Sylvain’s neck, inhaling him, licking the sweat from his skin. His brother— _his—_ his to spoil, his to control, his to abuse.

“Tell me you need me.” Miklan’s hand closes around his throat, thumb stroking the side when Sylvain swallows. It’s just for show, but the illusion is still powerful enough to have Sylvain clenching around him, so impossibly tight he could stay still and unload if he surrendered even a second of concentration. “Tell me how much you need my cock.” 

His tongue teases at the shell of Sylvain’s ear as he waits for his answer. Sylvain moans—unashamed and loud—turning and arching to meet Miklan’s lips. He finds them, lingering inches beyond his reach, breathing hot and hungry into the tormenting gap. The words Miklan wants to hear tumble over each other in his incitement. 

“Need you so bad Mik—only you—need you to fuck me open on your cock.” 

“Crude.” Miklan says with a bitter fondness, stopping him by the force of thumb filling the part of Sylvain’s lips. “You really are a whore, begging for the first cock you get, even if it belongs to your worthless brother.” Sylvain shakes his head back and forth, wrinkling his eyebrows, though what he is really trying to communicate is lost on Miklan until he catches him by the jaw and makes him confess. 

“ _Give me it_.” Sylvain rasps, like Miklan’s left him to die choking on the thin air of a mountaintop. His eyes are just as raw as the gurgle in his throat—red and wet and more cold, black pupils than warm honey. “Give me your cock.” 

Miklan does, slipping deep into Sylvain’s warmth, nudging the head in different angles until he finds the perfect combination of power and speed. The drag of Miklan’s tongue down his spine makes Sylvain arch more into the assault, and he almost comes apart at the core when Miklan finds that sweet spot inside of him that makes him sing. Miklan grabs his hair, exposing the bob of his pale throat, holding him in the position to be used as nothing more than a hole to empty himself into. 

“Shit, you got me..” he curses, slapping Sylvain’s ass before pressing his nails in to hold it as it ripples around him. “I’m going to fill you up. Ruin you for anyone else who’d dare think of taking you this way.” His hips sputter, but refuse to die, enkindled over and again by the coil in his stomach that longs to strike its claim.

“ _Please.”_ Sylvain agrees instantly and far more enthusiastically than Miklan predicted. He can’t do anything but try to hold on as his body is ravaged by someone twice his size, someone he shouldn’t allow to touch him this way, someone he trusts. “ _Please Mik...make me yours.”_

The blur of red that is their hair whipping in tandem becomes more perceptible. Miklan’s rough thrusts level into something that is consistent—still far from tame or tender—finally settling after one final, firm smack against Sylvain’s ass to breed him exactly as promised. 

“You were already mine.” He nips at the back of Sylvain’s shoulder until he’s certain the message is clear and he’s satisfied with the marks. “Remember that.”

“ _Yours.”_ Sylvain slurs, drunk off the drag of fingertips admiring scratches and the pressure of hot come still shooting high to paint his insides with his brother’s claim. He winces at the return of emptiness when Miklan pulls out, spreading his cheeks to stare at the pulse of his gape, licking once from the bottom of his balls to the edge of his crack.

“Ruined.” Miklan comments, more satisfied than he thought he’d be watching his seed leak out. A finger invades the hole, prodding until the drip becomes a steady flow, and Sylvain becomes—embarrassingly—hard again. 

Miklan doesn’t seem to mind, turning him over, pulling Sylvain’s knees close to knock against the sides of his abdomen, slick hand wide enough to work both of their cocks back into commission. “Ruined and _mine._

  
  



End file.
